


Spy Be Damned

by hillcreature



Category: Genghis Khan - Miike Snow (Music Video)
Genre: Dancing, Fluff, Lots of dancing, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-25
Updated: 2016-12-25
Packaged: 2018-09-09 11:46:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,490
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8889517
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hillcreature/pseuds/hillcreature
Summary: Agent Michael Snow, spy superstar of the World Government Intelligence Agency (or at least, that’s how he liked to think of himself) had gotten into plenty of tight spots of the course of his long and highly decorated career. But it’d been a long time since he’d gotten himself into something he couldn’t just use copious amounts of well-maintained firearms and his infamous charm to get himself out. In fact, it was his charm that had gotten him into this mess in the first place.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [cptsdcarlosdevil](https://archiveofourown.org/users/cptsdcarlosdevil/gifts).



> my first fic on ao3!!!!!!!

**NOW**

Agent Michael Snow, spy superstar of the World Government Intelligence Agency (or at least, that’s how he liked to think of himself) had gotten into plenty of tight spots of the course of his long and highly decorated career. But it’d been a long time since he’d gotten himself into something he couldn’t just use copious amounts of well-maintained firearms and his infamous charm to get himself out. In fact, it was his charm that had gotten him into this mess in the first place.  
One or two exchanged glances, more than a few bad jokes, and a steamy kiss hastily shared in an empty bar; all to get Agent Snow into Gold Nose’s (tight) organization undetected. Well, he’d been detected. And now he was strapped to a concrete slab under an alarmingly large laser in a building that (apparently) didn’t exist. He licked his lips, tugging at his restraints. He didn’t know what to make of the tangle of anxiety in his gut when he saw Gold Nose dance his way into the room, followed by a bunch of nearly-identical henchmen. Snow was beginning to believe they were clones, or robots, or something. No supervillain he’d faced in the past had choreographed his damn minions to such a precise degree.  
“Whatever it is you’re planning, I’ll stop it,” Snow said, unable to tear his eyes away from the literal big red button in Goldie’s hand.  
“I very much doubt that,” Gold Nose said, waving his hand absently at the white-coated scientist standing behind the laser’s control panel. The scientist tapped a few flashing controls and pulled a lever. Snow gaped as the wall on the opposite end of the room began to rise, betraying a bleak gray landscape and a black sky scattered with stars that shone brighter than any Snow had ever seen. Six inches of glass separated them from the barren surface of the Moon. The Earth was nothing but a pale blue wedge in the darkness of space.  
“Well, that—uh—explains a lot,” Snow choked out, head spinning. He’d never been good with heights, and well—height didn’t exactly encompass the situation he was currently in.  
Gold Nose smiled, his face lighting up, as if he’d finally won their months-long game of cat and mouse. Agent Snow knew this probably meant he was going to die for sure this time—instead of the many, many times Goldie had threatened but never gone through with it—he knew where Goldie’s secret lair was.  
“I’ve got you dead to rights,” Goldie said, picking up the trigger again. Snow flinched despite himself. As if on cue, Gold Nose launched into another of his trademark musical numbers, his whole gang of (probably) robots singing along in perfect harmony. Agent Snow had seen this plenty of times before, but there was something different this time—something that stopped him from immediately rolling his eyes. Music that was unfamiliar to him. A hitching energy to Gold Nose’s usually smooth-as-glass choreography, like he was doubting every step and turn. Snow’d never seen Goldie like this before. He moved like he was flying blind.  
Then the lyrics started up, and Snow swallowed, unable to take his eyes off the man who—until about 0.5 seconds ago—he had considered his archenemies. 

**ONE MONTH AGO**

In the beginning, he told himself it was just the job. The shortest, easiest route from point A to point B. Then, one night, he found himself sitting in an Irish pub after hunting down a lead that turned up dry. The streets outside shone from a recent rain. London’s heavy night lit only by yellow streetlamps. The warm light of the dusty chandelier hanging over the booth Snow had chosen to grovel in turned his gin to diamonds in his hands when he turned the glass. The malnourished angel on his shoulder whispered that maybe he shouldn’t be drinking on the job, but he ignored it. Now was the time for drinking. Later he would indulge his shrinking better half.  
“Mr. Snow?”  
Snow looked up, breath catching in his throat. Goldie stood with his hands in the pockets of his dark blue jacket, beads of mist gleaming on the wool. He had a wide-brimmed hat pulled low over his face; only the gleam of his gray eyes and his golden prosthetic were visible in the shadowy light of the pub.  
“Oh, sorry sir,” Snow said, glancing around the pub. “I guess that’s why the place was empty.”  
“No need to apologize,” Gold Nose said, and sat down next to Snow. “I don’t mind.”  
“Oh,” Snow said, looking down at his drink. He felt his cheeks grow hot. “You, uh, doing okay today sir?”  
“You’re off duty, Mr. Snow,” Goldie said. “You don’t have to call me sir.”  
“Oh,” Snow said. “Well, call me Michael then.”  
“Michael,” Goldie said, slowly, as if he were savoring each letter like a fine wine. Michael took a sip of his drink, taking comfort in the familiar bitter taste. Goldie leaned forward, splicing his long fingers together on the table’s warped surface. “So, tell me about yourself, Michael.” As he spoke, the bartender brought him a bottle Michael didn’t recognize, and a glass.  
“Not much to tell,” Michael said. “Just a bad guy trying to earn an honest living.” Goldie laughed; the sound was harsh and ill-used, but genuine. He poured himself a drink.  
“You drink alone often?” Michael asked.  
“Do you?”  
Michael smiled, looking back down at his drink. “What’s in the bottle?”  
“A gift from an old friend,” Goldie said. “I did him a favor, once.”  
Michael downed his gin and offered his glass. Goldie raised an eyebrow, and poured him a generous portion. He tasted it, rolling the liquid around in his mouth. Some sort of liquor, but it tasted like no liquor he’d ever had.  
“Like it?”  
“It’s different,” Michael said, swallowing. “But it’s good.” The drink burned through him, not like the passing sting of the gin. It made him feel warm, inside out. A feat in this weather.  
Michael suddenly realized how close they were; he could feel Goldie’s warm breath on his neck. Before he knew what was happening, Michael lost himself in the other man’s storm cloud eyes, utterly tongue tied. Without really thinking, really considering the consequences, Michael leaned in and kissed Gold Nose, notorious supervillain. And to his complete surprise, Goldie kissed him back.

**NOW**

_I get a little bit Genghis Khan—_

Michael’s breath hitched in his throat. He would’ve laughed, if it wasn’t for the fact that Goldie was dancing for all he was worth, his knuckles white on the trigger as if the laser were pointed at his own chest. He hesitated, finger hovering over the button. Before Michael could say anything to stop him, Gold Nose pressed it. Michael squeezed his eyes shut, trying to imagine whatever it felt like to be instantly vaporized by a giant laser, but the laser never came. Instead, his restraints snapped open. He jumped to his feet. Every gun in the base trained on him.  
He was frozen, unable to fight or flee. Caught in the middle of a decision he had been avoiding for weeks. Goldie’s went quiet, poised on the edge of his next move. The music was suddenly far away; nothing but Michael and Gold Nose, on the surface of the Moon, drowning in the yawning silence of space. Michael’s lips parted, looking for words that weren’t there. Goldie held up his hand, breaking the spell. His minions lowered their guns.  
He was letting Michael go—even after everything that he knew, everything he had done. Michael couldn’t find it in him to betray this man again. Goldie’s face softened behind the mask, twisting Michael’s heart into knots. He knew he was done for then; or at least, Agent Snow was.  
Michael started swaying to the beat of the fading music, weeks of watching Goldie and his crew pull off musical number after musical number guiding his feet. Goldie mirrored him, the smoothness back in his gait, a broad smile on his face. They danced until long after the music had faded, and collapsed in each other’s arms, their backs to the cold glass separating the base from the emptiness of space.  
“You asked me once why my people are so loyal to me,” Goldie said, his breath heavy from exertion. “They love me, all of them, in their own way. They know I would never leave them behind.”  
“If you’re asking, the answer is yes,” Michael said. “Spy be damned. I’m yours.” They kissed, to a ripple of muttered approval from the small crowd of Goldie’s minions still watching. Goldie smiled like he hadn’t smiled properly in years, pulling Michael closer.  
Michael had never been more fulfilled. He wanted to stay in this castle on the surface of the Moon forever. He had nothing to lose but loneliness.


End file.
